Through a Mother's Eyes
by AmyNChan
Summary: I just imagined that Saya had a mother.  This is through her eyes.  And something I didn't mention, Saya chose her own last name when she left.


_**14AmyChan: SAD ONESHOT TIME!**_

Everyone loved Saya Minatsuki. She was kind and caring and compassionate. But if you go through every hospital in the world, you won't find her birth record. There are millions of children with brown hair and green eyes. Half of them are girls. But not a single one is named Saya Minatsuki. The only one that is close is little Sarah. There is no last name in the papers, because the parents split as soon as they could. Oh, they were tracked down. Once they were brought back, the apologized profusely. The nurse in charge wrote that they were '…very heartfelt and sincere…' So it was that Sarah went home with her parents, only to return eight years later beaten, battered, bruised, and so close to death that it breathed upon her face. That night, little Sarah died. In the morning, an eight-year-old Saya walked into the bright light, confused and with no home to go to.

Little Saya went through at least twenty houses to call 'home' before coming to mine. She was quiet and shy. And so plainly terrified of me. The first thing she told me in that tiny, quivering voice was "don't hit me, please". It shook me to the core. After that, she kept telling me that she was '…doing my very bestest…". Once she grew out of those sayings, I felt confident enough to try sending her to school. She never went back there. Her first day of school, she came home, trembling like an autumn leaf, muttering and crying about how everyone was going to hit her. I homeschooled her until she wanted to go back in Jr. High.

In the few elementary years, Saya drew. She drew and drew and drew and drew to her hearts content. In the pictures that weren't about black and white cats, the bad guys would always be behind bars, and she would always be holding Mommy's hand. My hand. Every time I saw this scene, I had to try extremely hard to stifle back the tears. She couldn't remember her biological mother, but she never needed to. I wouldn't beat her. I would never abandon her. Not this small child that needed me.

Jr. High school came much too fast for my liking. Saya came and told me that she wanted to go to school with the other girls and boys. She had completely forgotten about her episode in elementary school. I remember sighing with both pride and regret. Even though we wouldn't be as close as we used to be, Saya would be taking the first few steps on her own in her life.

I remember taking Saya shopping for school. She was beaming so brightly. I got her the brightest backpack I could find, and she decorated it with pink flowers. She always carried that backpack with such pride and happiness. After that, we went to get Saya some clothes for the new school year. There was a lady who was sifting through a rack of sweaters. The only reason I remember her is because of what she was wearing. It was a nice Japanese-style dress, and Saya wanted one. Without a care in the world, eleven-year-old Saya bounded up to the lady and asked where the dress had come from. Though surprised, the lady was kind enough to tell us where she had found the dress, apparently named a Yukata. The lady also commented on how energetic and exciting my daughter was. I had to end the conversation and walk away before anyone could see my tears. Saya was right behind me like a little chick.

A year came and went without incident. Saya was growing so fast right before my eyes. By now, she had a friend, but I couldn't say I was half as enthusiastic about it as she was. The young man hardly showed up, and when he did come, he apparently had a bad attitude. Yet, he was Saya's friend. Also, the teachers told me that when Saya was there, the young man's attendance and grades improved ever-so-slightly. Eighth grade, he didn't show at all. Although Saya told me he moved, I could tell that every morning, she would go to school to see him. When he wasn't there, she came back from school with something on her mind. He was apparently special to her. I hoped that they would meet again when his life had improved.

It was also during the eighth grade that Saya found a career that she wanted to pursue. I was proud that she knew what she wanted to do in life. Before she told me she wanted to put the bad guys in jail. Before she told me she wanted to be a sweeper. To this day, I still don't know how the notion got in her head. I can still remember crying in my room about it, not knowing what to do. Yet, given her past, I couldn't just let her decision go. What made her want to be a _sweeper_ of all things? Did she want to find peace with the past? The past she didn't even remember?

For her freshman year of high school, I sent Saya to the counselor's office everyday so she could change her mind about becoming a sweeper. She didn't. In fact, I think it did just the opposite. In her stubborn resolve, Saya even went to the police station to learn about becoming a sweeper. It honestly scared me when I heard she had taken a job at the police shooting range. All I could do was cry myself to sleep at night.

Junior year came, and suddenly, Saya was practicing her shots at the police shooting range. I remember watching my numb hand sign the permission slip. She was beaming like the day I took her shopping almost five years ago. Only now, in her hand was the heavy weight of a gun. I wanted to take it away. It's so dangerous…

Before I could catch up with her, Saya dropped out of high school and devoted her entire time to studying the laws and how criminals think. She took and passed the sweeper's test. She was now an official sweeper. In my opinion, she was going way overboard. I told her so one day. It was that day where she wanted to show me something she thought of. She _had_ taken physics before dropping out. I followed her into the forest near the town we lived in. She made me stand behind a bullet-proof glass shield. Then, she pointed so I saw a target. She couldn't have seen it, because there were two trees between her and the target. A loud _bang_ made me jump. I looked over to Saya to see that she had fired, not at the trees, but off to the side. I saw that she had set up a few metal pieces. But why?

"Mom, did I hit the target?" Saya asked me. I was shocked. I turned my attention to the target, which now had a hole about two centimeters away from the bull's eye. I could only nod as she celebrated her invented skill. I was in a whirlwind of disaster. Saya was this skilled with a gun? When? When did the timid little girl that entered my house become so deadly? Something had to happen. About two feet away from me, Saya was cleaning her gun.

Saya soon became seventeen. She would have graduated today. No, she isn't graduating. She's chosen a path. Now, she's either going to keep on it, or turn away. I remember telling her that she had to catch a bounty. She came home two days later with a wad of bills. That week she left the house. Last I heard, she was an accomplished sweeper. She sent me a letter saying that she ran into that boy from Jr. High. Maybe he can help her out a bit. Lord knows she needs a friend in this brutal business.

_**14AmyChan: I don't own anything~! *^_^***_

_**Saya: Don't I not have any family?**_

_**14AmyChan: I don't care. In this, you do. *^_^***_

_**Saya: all right. :)**_

_**14AmyChan: please review~! *^_^* **_


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